


Remnants

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Marauders' Era, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-13
Updated: 2006-02-04
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: The Defeat of Voldemort in 1981 marked the end of the war, or so it seemed to many. Since then, almost all of the records of the Order of the Phoenix were destroyed, along with many records of the Death Eaters. All that remained was a box, a box of memories. The last remnants of the war.





	1. The First Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Miss D. Meadowes  
The Lavender Bedroom  
9 Belview Lane  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

 

 

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

 

Dear Miss Meadowes, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress 

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

 

Uniform __  
First-year students will require:  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
Please not that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

Set Books _  
All students should have a copy of the following:_  
The Stand Book of Spells (Grade 1) by _Miranda Goshawk_  
A History of Magic by _Bathilda Bagshot_  
Magical Theory by _Adalbert Waffling_  
A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by _Emeric Switch_  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by _Phyllida Sporte_  
Magical Drafts and Potions by _Arsenius Jigger_

Other Equipment _  
1 wand  
1 cauldron  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set of brass scales_

Students may also being an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

~*~

_Dear Marlene,_ __

Did you get your letter yet?? I got mine this morning. The owl flew in through the chimney and scared Da who was napping in his chair. Mum was howling with laughter after that. He claims he’ll never get used to having her owls fly in and out the windows. When Mum read the letter, you should of seen her face, she was smiling and laughing, and crying all at once. Then she grabbed me and tried to hug me to death, literally. We’re going to Diagon Alley on 27th of August. Mum says to ask your Mum if you want to come with us.

__

-C.M. 

___Dear Cassy,_ __

I can’t believe that about your dad! Though, I suppose I’ve gotten used to having ‘odd’ things happen at my house. With Daddy working as a healer for the Department of Magical Creatures, well, you tend to get used to seeing large assortments of animals. Mother says she’d love to go with you to Diagon Alley, and she says we’ll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron at noon, right after we stop at Gringotts to get our money. I can’t believe we’re finally going! Mother says she’ll even let me get an owl!

__

-M.M. 

__


	2. The Investigation of Godric's Hollow

3 November 1981- 4 days after the death of Lily and James Potter

“Oi! Bernie! I think I found somethin’ o’er here.” Jack Taylor cried out amongst the rubble. He was one of two police officer’s assigned to investigate the strange demise of Godric’s Hollow. It had been a small cottage in England, somewhat concealed from everyone around it. 

It was simply a routine investigation to make sure no one had died or lay injured inside. From the looks of things the gas heater had probably exploded while the couple was out, most likely still on holiday unbeknownst of the destruction of their home. The only strange thing about it was that despite having been owned by a Mr. and Mrs. Potter there was almost nothing inside to show that the couple had actually lived there. 

It was as if someone had already sifted through all of their belongings and taken anything of personal value. The two officers were just about to give up when Jack came across a large chest that had been hidden under a second story floor board.

“What do you expect it is?” Bernie asked as he jogged over. His shirt was tight and covered in sweat from the effort it had taken him to jog the fifty feet to where Jack was squatting next to the chest. To put it simply Bernie was an old police officer who had reached retirement age long ago, and was sent here simply because the head of department was sick of his nagging. 

Jack just shook his head at Bernie and tinkered for a minute with the lock. 

“Damn. It’s locked tight; we’ll have to take it back to the station.” He mumbled as he stood up and brushed off his hands. He bent over and heaved the box up, hoping that he wasn’t wasting his time on a box filled with quilts and towels, but then again. Who would look up a box of blankets? Not anyone he knew anyway.

“Right you are.” Bernie mumbled as he started walking quickly to the car. Jack smiled to himself, despite all of the old man’s nagging he had been barely fit enough to look through the remains of a broken down house. 

~*~

“Well Captain, the investigation went well enough. We didn’t find any evidence of dead bodies or even a lot of belongings. It looked like someone had gotten to the house before us. Or the Potters had removed almost everything they owned before hand. There had been no pictures, books, clothing, or even cookery. The house appeared to be almost empty when we got there.”

Captain Lawrence Sherwood frowned and stroked the ends of his mustache. He was a large man, and he only appeared larger because of the small animal growing on his face. His mustache had been the talk of the department and some even swore that it moved on its own when the Captain was angry. And Captain Sherwood was certainly not pleased by what Taylor was telling him.

“Have you talked to the neighbors yet?” Captain asked before standing up and walking stiffly to the door. 

“No, not yet, we figured we’d wait till Monday before approaching them.” Jack bit his lip for a moment before looking back at his Captain. He had never been on the Captain’s good side. He’d always been a ‘softie’. He’d never killed anyone. He’d never really wanted to go off shooting burglars or solving murder mysteries. Jack was the guy they sent to help save kittens from trees or to tell people that they’re grandmother had taken a fall and was in the hospital. “Sir, there was one thing. We found a chest. It’s locked sir, and we haven’t found a way to open it yet.” 

The Captain raised an eyebrow and his mustache rose with it almost hiding his nose completely as he talked, the hairs flying forward as he breathed out his nose. “Well, then open it, go see the neighbors, find out where these people are, and report back on Wednesday. I want this case solved, done with, and filed before next weekend. I wouldn’t even bother giving this case that long if the law didn’t require it. What with all the disappearances going on lately. A locked box is on the bottom of the department’s list of things to do.” 

Jack just nodded his head and stood up. “Yes, sir.” Jack said gave the Captain a smile and hurried out of his office to go pick up the chest and the Potters’ file. 

~*~

Jack sighed as he sat in a large overstuffed armchair in his third story apartment. He stared down at the box in front of him as he smoked a cigarette and wondered what he was going to do with it. His orders had been simple, take the box home, and see if he could get it open, if he couldn’t, well, that was fine too. A simple box that could contain just about anything wasn’t exactly on the top of the departments list of things needed to get done. Not with all of the strange murders and disappearances that have happened lately.

Till a day or two ago London had seemed to be under attack and the police force has been working day and night to figure out who was behind it. They were calling it terrorism by a gang called Death Eaters. A vile name for a vile band of people, police have been working more then ever which was why the investigation at Godric’s Hollow had been so miniscule. If it didn’t involve people, the police force simply didn’t have time for it.

He sighed again and got down on to his knees in front of the box and began to tap on the top of it with his index finger. The box had most been on the first floor when the house collapsed judging from the debris that had been on top of it. There was a chance one of the board might be loose and he could pry it off. He tapped all 16 boards, but they all appeared sturdy. He sighed and got up, carefully wiping off his pants and walked across the room to small drawer filled with tools. He grabbed a hammer and a crow-bar and walked back over to the box. He lifted the crow bar and inserted into the crack separating the bottom half of the trunk from the lid, or top. He pushed down on it, and waited for it to split open. It never did. He frowned and looked back down at the look, really examining it with his eyes for the first time. It looked old, and the key hole was large and bulky meaning the key must’ve been the size of a hand. There wasn’t even a mark from all his efforts. 

Jack picked up the hammer and began to pound the lid, trying to break through to get to whatever was inside it. Each time he hit the box the hammer seemed to bounce back, the box remained unaffected. He groaned in frustration and struck out his leg kicking the bottom of it sending the box skidding a few feet. Before he turned it on it’s side and began to pound the bottom of it. The stupid box wouldn’t open, as Jack sweated through his shirt. He started at the left side and began to work his way over towards the right.

Thwap, Thwap, Thwap, Thunk. He hit it again, Thunk, before he took his hammer and slammed it against the wood as hard as he could. Click. He looked over and saw the lock had popped open. The box lay on its side, undamaged.

Jack turned the chest carefully again so the top was facing up, and opened the lid. Inside where stacks of letters, and books, and pictures. Jack carefully picked up the first photograph and looked at it. It was an old fashioned picture, black and white, of a man and a woman, whom Jack assumed were Mrs. And Mr. Potter.

The two were holding hands and were facing each other, with adoration shining in their eyes. They looked to be in their late teens, possibly early twenties. The man had shaggy dark hair that was mussed and blowing in the wind. The woman had long wavy hair and dimples which gave her the look of innocence a small child would possess. That was when he noticed her eyes, they were cloudy. Jack had never seen eyes like hers before, and he wondered why they were so unusual. 

Jack set the picture down and pulled out another object. It was a small bowl filled with silvery liquid. He thought for a moment that it was quick silver and set it down hastily. He was familiar with the poison. One of his former partners had died when it was put into his drink, he’d been exterminated. His partner had been the only witness to a murder which could’ve landed one of the biggest drug dealers in jail for life. Jack winced slightly and shook his head. _Breathe man, you can’t afford to get emotional. He knew that could’ve happened, it was part of the job. It always has been. Just breathe._ Jack shook his head before peering into the bowl trying not to get to close before suddenly he was pulled in.

Jack screamed as he felt his body falling downward plummeting towards a dark blackness he couldn’t explain. He felt his heart racing in his chest. The beat was the only thing reassuring him that he was alive. Jack closed his eyes and prayed. _What had I done to deserve this? Oh God. Oh God. Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Hallowed be this day our_ –Jack stopped and opened his eyes. He wasn’t falling anymore and he felt his knees hit the ground and breathed in and out before looking around. Suddenly, as suddenly as he’d been pulled into that hole he felt a calm come over him. A sense of de juva hit him, and he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. Maybe he was dreaming. Yes that’s it. This was just a horrible dream. He looked up from the floor and he saw her; the girl from the photograph.

The woman was sitting on the floor. She was wearing a long black cloak, which Jack found odd. He had never seen someone wearing a cloak quite like it before. He watched her as she slowly placed books, letters, and pictures into a large chest. 

He gasped in surprise. It was the same chest he had found at the construction site. He covered his mouth and looked at her, expecting her to have heard him, but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t, this was a dream, in fact he was probably invisible or something else completely unrealistic. After all, anything could happen in dreams. He turned back to her and saw that she was humming happily to herself putting away her things.

“What are you doing up this early?” A voice called out and Jack turned around in time to see a dark haired character leaning in the doorway watching her sadly. His eyes were filled with wariness as if he had seen to much darkness in this world, Jack thought. He looked like the old police officers had after World War 2. Jack wondered if he was a returning soldier from Vietnam. The man looked as if he had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders one to many times. Jack shuddered as he thought about what this man must have seen to be tormented by his very memories.

“Organizing, I’m making a box of memories, of remnants. So that we can still remember the good times after this is over.” The woman said her voice hollow, and aching. She sounded like she had lost part of her soul. Jack wanted to reach out for her, but thought better of it. This may be his dream, but who knew what would happen. Dreams had a way of turning on you when you least expected. For all he knew that women could turn into an axe murderer and kill him right there. And though he knew he couldn’t die in a dream, he didn’t see the point in risking it. For now Jack would simply remain the observer, watching and waiting to wake up.

“Come back to bed. You can finish this later.” The man said as he walked over to her slowly and pulled her up from the ground gently. The man treated her as if she were porcelain and would shatter in his grip.

The woman nodded her head and walked with her hand in his out of the door. She glanced back at the box for a moment and Jack saw that her eyes were not yet clouded, just sad and lost, like a being without a purpose. He had the urge to follow them, but before he could he felt himself jerked upward.. 

Jack screamed again as he felt his soul pulled upward into a chaotic mass of darkness. He felt like his body was being pulled a part, and ripped to pieces. He’d never had a dream like this where he had felt so much pain, so much agony. Pure and indescribable agony, Jack could feel tears falling down his face as he was ripped forward into reality. 

And as soon as it started the pain was gone, and he felt himself lying on the floor in front of that bowl, in front of that box. Jack was crying and he could smell the wet polished wood beneath him. What had happened? What kind of dream had that been?

Jack jumped up in surprise as his mind raced over what had just happened. He looked down at the box and glanced at the silvery liquid filled bowl and shook his head. _What just happened? Was this some kind of strange drug, who were those people? How did he get there? What was going?_ Jack began to panic and walked over to the phone and began to dial. Someone else could come and deal with this. He didn’t care what the Captain thought of him. He’d just been drugged, or worse. He didn’t know what could be worse, or what it could’ve been, but he, Jack Taylor had never been a particularly adventurous man. It was a wonder he had become a police officer. He saw no reason to change his ways now.

“Calm down old boy. Breathe.” He seemed to be telling himself that a lot lately. “It was just a dream. Just a horrible meaningless dream, there is no reason to over react. You probably just drank to much whiskey. Calm down. Breathe.” That’s when he saw it. Something inside the box, that was shining against the light. He walked over slowly and picked it up. 

It was a ring, a simple elegant silver ring, with one small sapphire in it. The outside of the ring wasn’t what intrigued him however. It was the inside. 

You gave me sight…

The girl in the picture, her eyes had been hazy because she was blind. That’s why she looked so odd.

Jack shook his head; he felt a migraine coming on. He wasn’t a particularly old man yet, but he could feel himself growing weary and old as the night went on. Thanks to his stupid job, and that box. He frowned. That box. He glanced back at the phone before sighing. No one worth talking too would be in the office right now. If he called they’d just think he’d drunk to much whiskey before going to bed, and he probably had. He’d wait till morning to investigate further. That was the only thing he could do. 


	3. Meetings with Sex Gods

_Dear Marzley,_ __

Did you ask your parents yet? Lily and Alice both said they’re allowed to go, but it won’t be half as fun without you. James wrote and said that the Marauders will all be there. I can’t wait to see Lily’s face. She’ll pop, but she’s going to have to deal with it. Besides we all know they’re going to get married someday, they already bicker like an old couple. I can’t believe fourth year is almost going to start. Can you believe it? We’re practically adults! Next year we have OWLS and then NEWTS. Soon we’ll be out on our own. It’ll be fantastic. 

__

-C.M. 

__

~~~~

_Dear Cassy,_ __

In three years everyone else will have grown up. I hold my doubts about you ever growing up. After all you still sleep with a stuffed animal, and have a strange fascination for those odd muggle movies… the animated ones. Mother says she’ll let me go, but only for two hours. She’s been worried ever since the disappearances started. I can’t say I blame her. I’ve heard some awfully scary rumors from Narcissa Black, but then I suppose she does tend to exaggerate every once in a while. I’ll meet you at four in the Leaky Cauldron?

__

-M.M.

__

~~~

__

Dear Dork,

__

Me, Remus, Sirius, and Peter will meet you at the Leaky Cauldron. Now Evans is coming right? Did she ask you to invite me? Is she falling for my devilish good looks and charm? Are you falling for my devilish good looks and charm? (I hope the last question is ansewered with a NO…but then I am devilishly handsome)

__

-The Sexiest Beast That Ever Lived

__

Oi, Prongs, that’s MY name. 

__

STOP WRITING ON MY LETTER SIRIUS!

__

No.

__

Sod off.

__

Oooh I smell cookies in the kitchen.

__

~~~

__

Dear James,

__

Did I ever mention how strange you are? Honestly, having conversations in letters is a clear sign of insanity. Besides your both wrong, I am the sexiest beast that ever lived, and EVER SHALL LIVE! And no, sorry to burst your only bubble of happiness, but I am not falling for your ‘devilishly good looks and charm.’ 

__

-I am not Dork

__

~~~

__

Dear Dork-y,

__

HA! You admit it, I am devilishly good looking and charming. God I’m perfect. And it’s talking to yourself that’s a sign of insanity, not having conversations in a letter. Go on dreaming I, James Potter Sirus Black. SIRIUS GET OFF MY LETTER! Anyway I am the sex god of the world. You know it, you want me, and you can’t have me. (unless you promise not to tell Lily, then we can talk just know that I don’t do relationships unless you happen to be a Lily Evans) 

__

-Sex God

__

~~~

__

Dear Sirius or James whichever, I’m ending this chain of letters before I get post-raped. See you on Friday thank god that it isn’t any sooner.

__

-Cas 

__

~~~~~~~~

__~~~~~~~~ __

Dear Diary,

__

        Cassy, Marlene, and Alice invited me to go with them to Diagon Alley yesterday. I know that this isn’t very nice to say, but I was thrilled I didn’t have to go with Mum and Da again. It’s just that-- though they try to make it look like they’re happy being there, I know that Diagon Alley is a little to much for them. I mean, it must feel awful to have to walk through it and see all of the wizards and witches and know they won’t ever be able to do magic. Just imagine how a squib must feel walking through Diagon Alley with all of their family knowing they’d never do magic. 

__

        Anyway, I met Cassy, Marlene, and Alice in the Leaky Cauldron, but guess who else was there. James Potter and Co. though to be honest, I was kind of happy to see him. I’d missed him, though I’d never tell him that to his face. I mean honestly, his ego is big enough without giving him any compliments. And he looked so happy to see me, it was kind of comical. I even allowed him to give me a hug, though for the record, he did try and hold on to me a little to long. 

__

        James grew a lot over the summer. He was almost taller then Remus, who’s massive now. He’s got almost half a meter on me. James looked good though, all tanned, and well—he really is handsome. Though again, I could never tell him that. I think he’s beginning to grow on me. And I DO like him, most days. He’s hilarious when he wants to be, and even kind of well, cute. Hey—I’ve got to go. Cassy and I promised to play football with a couple of the neighbors. I’ll see you later. 

__

-Lily Evans 

__

__

 


	4. Deathes to Act Upon

Dumbledore sighed, his left hand massaging his temple as he looked down at the evidence before him. Hagrid had brought Harry three nights ago, and the ministry had gone through the wreckage to secure any magical items that might have escaped the damage unscarred. 

He had acted quickly getting Harry off to his aunt’s house, but now he couldn’t help feeling unsure if he had done the right thing. That poor boy, he’d be forced to grow up oblivious to the magical world around him. There would eventually come a day when he realizes how many people out there have whispered his name. He’d have enemies whose names he might never learn, and hopefully, enough allies to guide him through it all.

Yet, at the same time Dumbledore knew there was no other way. No other way for the Harry to grow up with a somewhat normal, magical, family. He’d get far to use to the attention. After all who wouldn’t? He’d been watched all his life expected to meet the standards of other amazing wizards when in fact he was just a boy. Not even a boy really, just a baby of one year. 

A baby with no belongings and no parents, a baby who’d been shipped off to live with some of the most unpleasant people he had ever witnessed. The Dursleys, were an anti-magical bunch if ever there were one. They didn’t seem to approve of anything to bright, or flashy or colorful, let alone magical. 

Minerva had been shocked when he had suggested that they originally leave him with the Dursleys, and after she watched them she’d been even more against the idea. Dumbledore couldn’t truly blame her since he had his own misgivings about the whole idea. What if he was wrong? Dumbledore shuddered as he thought about it. If he was wrong, and something else, something different had happened at Godric’s Hollow it could be the end. The balance he’d tried to keep erect could plummet and send them all into turmoil. There would be no rescue for them then.

Yet, in his heart he knew he was right. He knew that Lily Evans had given her life for her son’s. She’d known what her son might achieve if he lived, and she knew it was above and beyond what her life was worth. Sweet Lily Evans, he still remembered her days at Hogwarts. 

They had been dark times, but somehow they’d come out of them with more laughter then he’d allowed himself to believe was possible. He had never imagined that she and James would have gone so far and beyond their call of duty as head students. He knew they were talented, and he knew they both had traits that made them popular and well loved. He just wished things hadn’t ended the way they had. 

James Potter had acted like the hero he was that night. He’d given his life to give his wife and Harry time to escape, he could’ve run, Lily could’ve also, but they had had the courage to stay and protect their son. It could be a long time before Dumbledore came across to such devoted and brave parents and he hoped Harry would understand when he grew up. He needed Harry to understand the sacrifices that had been made in order to get rid of Voldemort. And he needed Harry to realize that the fight wasn’t over yet. Dumbledore had realized all too soon that Voldemort would not be that easy to rid the world of. He was like a parasite feeding of the souls of those he’d killed. Dumbledore knew more about Tom Riddle then he was ready to admit, but he knew, that in the future he’d have to act on it. 

He would act on it. 


End file.
